Homeplace (22 page)

Her own mouth went dry and her suddenly damp hands tightened on the steering wheel as if to tether her to the planet which had begun spinning out of control. She was vastly relieved when, after another suspended second, he merely touched his fingers to the brim of his hat and left the porch, joining the group of friends and family who’d shown up for the planting.

A surprising number of townspeople were present—including, Raine noticed with surprise, Judge Barbara Patterson-Young. She guessed that the slightly pudgy, bespectacled, balding man with the judge was Jimmy Young, whose brief teenage indiscretion so many years ago was still causing problems. The way he was going out of his way to avoid Lilith, who was decked out in teal cowboy boots, a teal-and-purple broomstick-pleated skirt, and a purple western-cut shirt adorned with silver studs, suggested that he’d heard about the confrontation in court. And was desperately trying to prevent Round Two.

The fact that so many people turned out gave testimony to the fact that Jack was as well-liked in Coldwater Cove as he’d been when he’d been a high school star jock.

He was also, Raine noted, obviously respected. Which didn’t come as the surprise it might have her first night home, having already witnessed firsthand how fair-minded he could be. How kind. Watching him organize the work teams, she also couldn’t help contrasting him with the men she was used to—brash, arrogant, domineering, win-at-any-cost males who brandished their control like Barbary Coast pirates brandishing cutlasses.

The sheriff was neither brash nor domineering. But without raising his voice, he had everyone doing exactly what he wanted them to. Willingly, even eagerly. For the first time she understood why he’d always been voted football team captain. Jack O’Halloran may have raised hell in his younger days, but he was a born leader. The type of male who could lead men on the gridiron, into battle, or even into fields of freshly tilled earth.

She was relieved when the information she’d gleaned about tree farms from her lengthy Internet search proved to be accurate. The work itself turned out to be relatively simple. Planting strings, with knots tied at five-foot intervals, marked off the fields.

“When the first tree in each row is planted straight,” Jack explained to the first-timers, “subsequent trees will all be in straight rows, up and down, back and forth, and diagonally. It makes it a lot easier to mow between the rows.” Then he’d grinned and seemed to be looking straight at her. “It also just looks prettier.”

Raine smiled back and decided that while the detail-oriented part of her appreciated the exacting layout, another, more instinctive part of her agreed that the seemingly endless rows of deep green trees were indeed lovely.

They were divided into groups, Raine assigned to work with Lilith and Shawna, while Ida, Savannah, and Renee made up another team. The work went quickly as Raine used a short-handled spade to dig slits in the fragrant freshly turned soil, Lilith plunked in the transplanted seedlings which had spent their first two years in a greenhouse on the property, and Shawna tamped the soil down around it. It took Raine a few times to get a hole straight rather than digging at a slant, which would, Jack had warned, leave the tree roots too near the surface, allowing the roots to dry out too quickly and weaken the tree. But they soon developed a rhythm and were planting nearly as fast as they could walk.

From time to time, whenever they’d take a break while Renee ran back to get more transplants, Raine would glance around, watch the others working in the dark brown fields, and be reminded of the reproduction of
The Gleaners
she’d bought for her office wall. There was something about the painting that had both emotionally moved and relaxed her when she’d spotted it on the wall at the SoHo gallery. She was enjoying those same feelings now as she worked beneath the cloud-scudded sky, breathed in the pungent scent of fir and earth and the faint tinge of salt riding on the air.

Since so many people had turned out, it didn’t take long to complete the planting. Which signaled the beginning of the party phase of the day. The mood was unabashedly festive. Meat, salmon, and oysters sizzled on barbecue grills, tables covered in red-and-white-checked paper cloths were groaning beneath bowls of colorful salads, casseroles, pots of vegetables, and myriad desserts. Fortunately, Savannah had provided the contribution for their family—a Tex-Mex shrimp salad with flavor that burst on the tongue, a chickpea burger topped with fennel-olive relish for Renee, and a plate of rich fudge brownies that disappeared almost as soon as the plate had been placed on the table.

Ida had brought along her infamous meatloaf in a casserole dish decorated with perky daisies. And while more than a few people, Jack included, put it on their paper plates, Raine noticed that no one was actually eating it. Not that she blamed them. But it did say something about the close-knit community that so many people went out of their way to avoid hurting an elderly lady’s feelings.

“Are you going to keep your baby?” Amy, who was sitting across the table from Raine, asked Gwen.

“Amy, darling,” Eleanor O’Halloran chided, “that’s a very personal question. And none of your business.”

When she’d first been introduced to Jack’s mother shortly after arriving, Raine had found her to be a gracious, pleasant woman. Her smooth complexion, short blond hair and still-lithe figure that looked terrific in a pair of faded Wranglers suggested she must have been stunning in her youth. She was, in a less flamboyant way, Raine decided, every bit as beautiful as Lilith. Having shared a casual conversation with her over grilled salmon and Savannah’s salad, she’d also proven to be intelligent, with a lively wit.

“That’s okay,” Gwen answered with a shrug. “It’s not as if my being pregnant is a secret, or anything.” She glanced down at her bulging belly, which Raine could have sworn had grown even larger in the past days. “And I haven’t decided yet.” She sighed. “Sometimes I really want to keep her, because it’s so hard to imagine giving her away to strangers after having her inside me for so long.

“But other times I think I should give her up for adoption, so she’ll have a Mom and Dad who’ll take care of her better than I can.”

She sighed again and looked out over the freshly planted fields. But Raine suspected it was not the bright green seedlings she was seeing, but some idyllic
Father Knows Best
family that only existed in fiction.

“I went to some adoption agencies last month with Lilith, and—”

“With Lilith?” Raine interrupted, exchanging a glance with Savannah, who was sitting beside Gwen and appeared equally surprised. “My mother went with you to interview prospective adoption agencies?” If Raine had given any thought to the matter, which she hadn’t, she would have guessed that Ida would have been the logical one to take on that responsibility.

“Yeah. She’s real easy to talk to,” Gwen said. “A lot easier than most adults and she doesn’t tell me what she thinks I should do. Like Mama Ida…Not that I don’t really appreciate Mama Ida’s advice,” she assured Raine quickly as a hectic blush stained her cheeks.

“Don’t worry, Gwen,” Savannah said with a reassuring smile. “Raine and I know firsthand how bossy Gram can be.”

“Of course, the problem is she’s usually right,” Raine said.

“True.” It was Savannah’s turn to sigh. “She certainly never liked Kevin. That should have been my first clue as to what a rat he was.” Her emerald eyes sparked with a hint of lingering anger. And determination. “But it’s too lovely a day and we’re having too good a time to think about him…. So, how did the interviews go?” she asked Gwen.

“Okay, I guess.” Despite her positive assessment, the teenager’s expression was gloomier than Raine had witnessed during her visit. “I was nervous, but Lilith asked some great questions. Ones I never would have thought of. At first I was surprised, but she said that since she’d been such a failure at being a mother, she could spot a bad one a mile away.”

That remark brought Raine’s mind back to her vow to attempt to bridge the gap between them. Working together today had been a good start, but eventually they were going to have to have a real talk. Soon, Raine vowed.

She glanced over at a neighboring table, where, a few seats down from Ida, who was engaged in a lively conversation with Dottie and Doris Anderson, her mother was sitting with Cooper Ryan. Not only were they not arguing, they seemed to be miles away in their own private world. The chemistry was more than obvious, even from this distance. But there was something else there, too, Raine considered. Something that appeared to be affection.

“It sounds as if they left you depressed,” she suggested carefully, returning her mind to the conversation.

“Yeah. I guess they kind of did. Though most of the people were nice and the offices were real fancy with Oriental rugs and paintings and stuff. But that was part of the problem.”

“The paintings?” Eleanor O’Halloran asked gently.

“No. I just kept feeling like they were places just for rich people, and I didn’t really belong there. I’ll bet if I wasn’t having this baby they all want so bad, they wouldn’t have even let me in the door in the first place.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not the case,” Raine assured her.

“You didn’t see them,” Gwen argued. “Besides, you’re probably used to all that fancy stuff, having an office in New York City and all, but it made me real uncomfortable. Like, though everyone was smiling, they were secretly afraid I was going to knock over a lamp or something. I kept thinking about my baby in a place like that, never being allowed to touch anything, always having to worry about being on her best behavior, and, though it’s kinda hard to explain, it made me feel real bad.”

Lilith paused as she passed the table. Raine was surprised to see her holding two glasses of lemonade. Her mother’s usual role at functions like this was that of Scarlett O’Hara being waited on by the Tarleton twins.

“Gwen felt as if the agencies, and, by extension, their clients, were more concerned with buying a child to complete their perfect lives than the baby’s happiness,” she explained. “Isn’t that right, dear?” Both her tone and her gaze were solicitous.

Gwen nodded. “Yeah. It felt as if I was selling my baby.”

“I was adopted,” Amy volunteered. “Wasn’t I, Gramma?”

“You certainly were,” Eleanor agreed with a warm smile. She gave the little girl a brief hug. “And there’s not a day that goes by I’m not grateful for that.”

“Me, too,” Amy agreed, returning the hug. Then she turned back to Gwen. “Mommy and Daddy weren’t poor. Not like those homeless kids Daddy took me to buy Christmas presents for last winter. But we weren’t rich, either. Not even when Mommy was working. Before she got sick.

“Daddy says it’s just the same as if I was their born child.” Six-year-old eyes widened earnestly. “Even better. Because out of all the babies in the world, they chose me.”

“That’s very special,” Savannah agreed quietly.

Remembering her sister’s miscarriage last year, Raine understood the undertone of sadness she heard in Savannah’s voice.

“Oh! I have the most wonderful, scintillating idea,” Amy said suddenly. She leaped up from the table and went running back toward the house.

“You raised a wonderful son,” Lilith said to Eleanor. “It’s such a shame his daughter has to grow up without a mother’s guiding hand.”

“Isn’t it?” Eleanor agreed.

Everyone was suddenly looking at Raine, who was madly trying to think of something, anything to say to deflect attention from herself, when she was saved by Amy’s return.

“Here.” She held up an orange egg, shaped like the green nano Kitty that had been driving Jack to such distraction. “It’s a Nano Baby. Daddy just bought it for me yesterday, because I’ve been wanting one more than anything. But you can borrow it,” she said to Gwen.

“I think it’s more for little kids,” Gwen demurred.

“But it’ll be perfect,” Amy insisted. “Because there are all sorts of things you have to do. Like, see that,” she said, pointing out the digital droppings that suddenly appeared on the screen. “When you see those, or tiny little footprints, you have to clean the baby up.”

She pressed a button, selected a cleaning icon, and wiped away the mess. “You also have to play with her. The game where you help her crawl is my favorite, and she has to get plenty of sleep, so when you hear her snoring, you have to turn out the lights. But you have to remember to turn them on again when the baby wakes up and then you have to feed her.”

A serious frown furrowed the childish brow. “But not too many snacks, or she’ll get sick and then you have to give her medicine. You also have to teach her to behave, but Daddy says that’s not really important because newborn babies don’t know about being good or bad.

“It’s a lot like a real baby, but if you forget to take care of it, all that happens is that the game ends. Then you can start a new Nano Baby. Daddy says that’s a lot easier than in real life, but this way you’ll be able to practice. Maybe it’ll help you decide if you can take care of a real baby by yourself.”

“From the mouths of babes,” Lilith murmured as Gwen, seeming intrigued, accepted the gift.

Raine didn’t say anything. But it didn’t escape her notice that for the first time in her life, she and her mother were in perfect agreement.

T
he day grew longer. The sun began casting long shadows across the back lawn and the acres of Christmas trees beyond. Gradually, some people wandered away, back to their homes, their lives. But most stayed, laughing and eating and enjoying the company and the evening. The yard was illuminated with glowing Japanese lanterns and warmed by the fragrant applewood fire Jack had started in an outdoor clay fireplace.

Sometime after sunset, to the obvious delight of his guests, he, Dan, and Cooper Ryan pulled out guitars and began playing a medley of country songs. When they segued from a rockabilly tune to a slow, romantic ballad about a lost love reclaimed, Raine watched the way Cooper seemed to be singing directly to Lilith. In turn, Lilith only had eyes for him. They could have been the only two people in Coldwater Cove. The only two in the world.

That idea caused a vision of being alone on a raft, in the middle of a storm-tossed ocean while the sky poured down icy water, to flash through Raine’s mind. It faded quickly, leaving behind a profound sense of loneliness.

She belatedly realized someone was talking to her. “I’m sorry, Amy. My mind was drifting. What did you say?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to see my room,” Amy, who was standing beside the redwood chair, invited. “Maybe you can watch a video with me, too. Daddy and I usually watch one together after supper, but he’s out by the pond teaching my cousin John how to cast with his new fishing rod.”

She was wearing a pair of red jeans, a T-shirt bearing a drawing of a Disney mermaid, and a pair of sneakers. She had a smudge of dirt on one cheek; a bit of chocolate from the homemade ice cream Eleanor O’Halloran had contributed to the party was smeared at one corner of her mouth. But neither detracted from the fact that she was going to grow up to be a beauty. Her thickly fringed eyes were wide and innocent, her smile, persuasive. Raine wondered how Jack managed to deny this golden child anything.

Raine bent down and tied one of Amy’s loose sneaker laces. “I’d love to watch a video.”

“Have you ever seen
The Little Mermaid
?”

“No, I missed that one.”

“You’ll like it a lot. It’s the best.” With that promise, Amy streaked off toward the house. A little bit in love, Raine followed.

“And Ariel and Prince Eric got married and they lived happily ever after,” Amy announced as the tape ended. “That’s my favorite story. Even better than
Pocohontas
or
Snow White
. But they’re good, too. Would you like to watch another tape?”

“If you’d like,” Raine said, trying not to reveal she’d been more than a little discomfited by the fact that the television turned out to be in Jack’s bedroom.

The first thing she’d noticed when Amy had practically dragged her into the room by the hand was the sterling-silver-framed photograph on the bedside table. Time had tarnished the silver a bit, but the smiles on the faces of the bride and groom hadn’t faded in wattage a bit.

“That’s Daddy,” Amy said when she saw the direction of Raine’s gaze. “And Mommy.”

“I can see that.”

“It was on the day they were married. They hadn’t adopted me yet,” she said matter-of-factly. “Isn’t Daddy handsome?”

“He certainly is.” Having grown accustomed to seeing him in jeans, Raine wouldn’t have pictured him in a tux. But if she had, even her vivid imagination couldn’t have made him look any better. “And your Mommy’s pretty, too.”

“She was sooo beautiful. Like a princess in a fairy tale.” Amy slid off the bed, went over to the dresser, picked up a silver-backed hand mirror and studied her reflection. “Daddy says that even though I’m adopted, I’m going to grow up to look just like her. That I’ll be beautiful, too.”

“Your daddy’s right. You’re already a very pretty little girl.”

“That’s what Daddy says.” Again, this was said with a complete lack of guile or pride, suggesting that Jack had done an excellent job building his daughter’s ego. “Would you like to see a tape about when I was still a baby?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll be right back!” The little girl left the room and Raine could hear her flying down the stairs.

Feeling as if she were snooping into personal things that were none of her business, Raine couldn’t resist the lure of the wedding photograph. She picked the frame up to study it closer.

Peg O’Halloran looked like a fairy princess, dressed in a froth of white satin and beaded lace that must have weighed almost as much as she did. Her train was beaded as well, her veil, topped by a band of white roses, was fingertip length, drawing a viewer’s eye to the gold band she was wearing on her left hand. Her billowy cloud of long blond hair was so pale and so shiny it could only have been natural. She literally glowed with life.

Jack, on the other hand, looked poleaxed. But in an endearing way, Raine decided. The way he was staring down at his bride suggested that he couldn’t quite believe his good fortune. It was obvious that they’d been so in love. So optimistic. So unaware of the tragedy that was lurking just around the corner.

“Here it is!” Amy announced, holding up the black videotape case. “It’s one of my very favorites. But I don’t remember that day because I was just a tiny baby.”

She switched tapes, then crawled back up onto the queen-size sleigh bed beside Raine, whose instincts, which had kicked in of late, were already telling her this was a mistake.

That proved to be an understatement. As she sat there, in the bedroom Peg and Jack had shared, on the bed where they’d made love, watching one of the most intimate acts a man and woman can share—bringing their new infant home from the hospital—she felt like the worst kind of voyeur.

“See, that was my old room. Before we moved to this house.” Amy’s voice managed to penetrate the white noise filling Raine’s head. “Mommy hung that wallpaper with the storks on it all by herself. Daddy painted the crib. They got it secondhand from one of Daddy’s cousins, but they fixed it up so it was just like new.”

Raine suspected Amy was parroting what her parents had told her about that day. That seemingly endless day. The joy was almost painful to watch, especially knowing how short-lived it would be. Amy, on the other hand, didn’t seem at all distraught as she kept on a running commentary of every little thing that was happening on screen.

“And that’s when Daddy gave me my bath. And splashed Mommy and got her blouse all wet. Then she splashed Daddy back. And we all laughed and laughed,” Amy was saying when Raine became aware of a third person standing in the open doorway.

“Amy.” Jack’s voice was low, but intense. “I thought we had an agreement about you not watching those tapes alone.”

“I’m not watching those tapes, Daddy.” She turned to Raine. “He’s talking about the tapes Mommy made me. So I’d always feel like she was here with me.”

A painful lump had risen in her throat. Raine swallowed, then forced her words past it. “That was a very special thing for her to do.”

“I know.” The lamplight haloed Amy’s blond hair as she nodded. “It’s my legacy.”

She looked back up at her father, who was now standing beside the bed, arms folded, the remote in his hand. He’d stopped the tape, Raine noticed when she saw the news footage of tonight’s Seattle Mariners baseball game appear on the television screen in place of the seemingly perfect, picture-book family.

“Raine said I was pretty. Like Mommy. Then she said she wanted to see the tape of when I was a baby.”

“After you asked her first, I’ll bet.”

“It wasn’t one of Mommy’s tapes,” she stressed again, sounding perilously close to tears. “Besides, Raine liked it, didn’t you?”

The distressed face looking up at her tugged at Raine’s heartstrings. She gathered Jack’s daughter to her and began rocking in an instinctive motion she hadn’t even realized she knew how to do. “I thought it was a wonderful video. And I’m glad you shared it with me.”

“Daddy and Gramma say I’m supposed to share.” Her voice was muffled against Raine’s sweater. Feeling somehow to blame, and more than a little helpless, Raine stroked her hair and looked up to Jack for guidance.

“Gwen’s looking for you, Amy,” he said gently. “She needs some help with the Nano Baby you gave her.”

“Okay.” Proving that recovery came fast for the young, she wiggled out of Raine’s embrace, slid off the bed, gave her father’s legs a quick hug, and took off down the hall. Moments later they could hear her footfalls on the stairs.

The mattress gave as Jack slumped down beside her. “I’m sorry.” He put his arm around her in that way she was beginning to enjoy far too much.

“It’s all right. She’s right. She was a beautiful baby. She’s a beautiful little girl, too.”

“Modest, too,” he said dryly.

“A strong ego is a good thing. I think you have a lot to do with that.”

“Don’t make me out to be something I’m not, Raine.” His voice was tight, offering her as much of a warning as the foghorn tolling somewhere in the bay. “I’m just a regular guy. An ordinary guy who went through some tough times. There are people handling worse every day.”

“You can protest all you want, Jack,” Raine said. Slipping free of his light embrace, she stood up. “But I’ve gone through enough jury selections to know that the trick is to ignore what people say, and concentrate on what they do. And what you’ve done with your daughter is far from ordinary.”

Because she found being alone with him in his bedroom too tempting for comfort, Raine brushed her lips against his, then left to rejoin the party.

Because he wanted more than that light, sweet kiss, Jack followed Raine, intending to steal more. Unfortunately, he was sidetracked by an aunt, who professed that she had met the nicest young woman at her widows survival group at church and since the lady in question and Jack had so much in common, she was certain they’d be perfect for one another.

Deciding that it would do no good to explain that compatibility required more than the loss of a spouse, he dodged the matchmaking with the excuse that right now his work was keeping him too busy to enter into a relationship. Although it was obviously not the response she’d been seeking, he managed to get away before she could press her case.

It took a few minutes, but he found Raine in the driveway, leaning against Ida’s Jeep, gazing up at the sky.

“I’ve forgotten how many stars there are,” she murmured, seeming not all that surprised by his appearance. “You never see stars like this in the city.”

“True. But we don’t have the bright lights.”

“No.” She turned her gaze from the sky toward him. “I was listening to you play the guitar with Dan and Cooper after dinner. You’re very good.”

“I made a few bucks playing at some country bars while I was in college.”

“So, is it true what they say about musicians and women?”

“I don’t know. What do they say?”

“You know.” She shrugged. “That you all have harems of groupies.”

“I don’t know about other guys. But I didn’t.” He half smiled at the bittersweet memory of Peg sitting at a front table, drinking cherry cokes while he did his best to entertain a bunch of hard-drinking cowboys who hadn’t come there to listen to the music. “I’ve always been pretty much a one-woman-at-a-time kind of guy.”

“That’s nice. And unusual.”

“Monogamy’s not all that unusual,” he said mildly. “Perhaps you’ve just run into some bad apples.”

“Perhaps.” Her tone sounded unconvinced.

“Which brings up something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“What’s that?”

“Is there a man in your life, Harvard? Some guy in a fifteen-hundred-dollar pinstriped suit and gold cufflinks waiting for you back in New York?”

“Would it matter if there was?”

“Would you like me to say it would?” he asked, moving still closer, encouraged when she didn’t back away. “Do you want me to say that I’d back off and leave you alone if you belonged to some other man?”

“I’ll never
belong
to any man.”

“Objection sustained.” He was close enough to touch. Nearly close enough to taste. “Let’s not waste time on semantics, Counselor.” When he reached up to touch her cheek, she stepped back. “I told you I wasn’t into playing games, so I’m going to say this straight out.”

Knowing he was pressing his advantage, but not feeling a bit guilty, since she’d already caused him more sleepless nights than any woman he’d ever encountered, Jack took another step, trapping her between Ida’s Jeep and him.

“You’ve riled me up from the beginning. At first I figured that it was just sex. That’d I’d been too long without a woman and you came along and stirred up my juices.”

“Charmingly put. Once again you flatter me, Sheriff.”

“The flattery part comes later,” he promised. “After I get this out of the way. Now, like I said, at first I thought it was only a case of runaway hormones. Which a woman like you could give any man, even one who hadn’t been celibate for the past three years.”

“Three?” She seemed surprised by that.

“I told you, I’m a one-woman man. There was no way I was going to fool around on my wife. Then she got sick. And I haven’t wanted any other woman since she died. Until now.”

He skimmed his fingers up her cheek into her hair. “Until you. I’m not going to apologize for wanting you, Raine. Especially since, unless every instinct I have has gone on the blink, I think you want me, too.”